Page 65 of Last Line of Defense

25

In the Spotlight

Clara

The rain beats against the café windows with a rhythmic, hypnotic consistency—the kind that can drag you down if you’re not careful. Outside, the city seems shrouded in a dense, damp gray mist that blurs the headlights of cars and the hurried comings and goings of pedestrians taking shelter under their umbrellas. Inside, luckily, the warmth of the café envelops me, mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee, pastries, and a hint of cinnamon. It’s one of those small, somewhat hidden spots where conversations seem to become more intimate and time feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

I’ve been glued to my chair for almost ten minutes, stirring a cappuccino with my spoon—one that has already lost all its appeal and warmth. The foam design has dissolved into a sad, shapeless, grayish swirl. Dani watches me from across the table with that infinite, almost saintly patience typical of someone who’s known me for years. He’s been my confidant for so long that he’s perfectly capable of detecting the exact moment when I’m pretending to have my life under control when, in reality, I’m a second away from a mental breakdown. And this morning—let’s not kid ourselves—I’m in full-blown code red.

“Are you going to drink that concoction once and for all, or are you going to keep torturing that poor little spoon until it confesses to some war crime?” he asks at last, using a light, joking tone that fails to hide the tremendous concern in his eyes.

I let out a brief exhale through my nose, offering a half smile, and set the spoon down on the saucer.

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d landed a gig as a comedian,” I reply, though my own voice sounds more tired and deflated than truly sarcastic.

“And I didn’t know we were meeting to plan your funeral,” he retorts, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table to close the distance between us.

I shoot him a look of utter exhaustion. Dani slowly shakes his head, interlaces his fingers, and sighs.

“Come on, cut to the chase. Are you going to tell me how you’re doing, or am I going to have to pry the truth out of you with pliers?”

For three days now, I’ve been responding on autopilot to everyone who asks me. Spouting white lies—small, perfectly crafted ones—that serve as a shield, allowing me to keep getting out of bed. But Dani isn’t the sporting director of Ravenhill FC, nor the coach, nor any player on the roster. And, of course, he isn’t Alicia. With him, masks don’t work; they’re a waste of time.

I lower my gaze to the foam left in my cup and take a deep breath, gathering my courage before dropping the bombshell.

“I’ve resigned.”

Dani blinks once, taking in the shock. He was the one who advised me to bet everything on Alicia, but I’m sure this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Are you crazy? After all the effort it took you to get there!”

I shrug, watching out of the corner of my eye as raindrops slide down the outside of the windowpane, forming little streams that die at the windowsill.

“It was the right thing to do; I had no other choice,” I say softly, almost to myself.

“The right thing for whom?” he asks, fixing me with an intense stare. “Because you’ve spent years going above and beyond for that team.”

I don’t answer him. I rub my palms together to generate some warmth and continue my explanation:

“I couldn’t let my relationship with her ruin her career. Alicia has been through a lot over the course of her professional career, and I’m absolutely certain the club was considering terminating her contract. So, well… I’d rather step aside and ask them to give her a chance to shine.”

Dani holds my gaze for a few long seconds, evaluating the situation and weighing just how crazy I am.

“No, Clara, don’t get the wrong idea. What you’ve done isn’t stepping aside; what you’ve done is sacrifice yourself.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, please,” I whisper, even though deep down I know perfectly well that he’s hit the nail on the head.

He laughs without a hint of humor—a short, dry, rather bitter sound.

“Don’t be dramatic? Clara, you just handed in your resignation from the job of your life. I think that, as your best friend, I’ve earned the right to a little morning drama. Have you stopped to think for even a second about what you’re going to do from now on? About how this is going to affect your résumé and your future in professional soccer?”

I swallow with terrible difficulty, feeling a lump in my throat. After the storm I went through with Charlotte, it took blood, sweat, and tears for a first-division team to trust me again to lead its physical therapy department. When Ravenhill FC hired me, I decided to survive by relying on a strict set of rules, while beneath that armor, the cracks and traumas remained very much present.

“I’ve thought about that every damn night,” I admit, looking him in the eyes. “But I just couldn’t keep pretending anymore, Dani. Sooner or later they were going to catch us, and they’d use it as a weapon to tear us apart. And I’d much rather lose my contract than risk losing her.”

Dani leans back in his chair and fixes me with a gaze filled with infinite tenderness.

“You really love her, huh?”